


Jack the Lionheart

by justsare



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: And probably did, Episode: s02e13 Murder Under the Mistletoe, F/M, Mid-Episode fix, Power Outage, She's always staring at his mouth, christmas in july, so am I, what should have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-03-27 20:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13888962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsare/pseuds/justsare
Summary: What was really going on as Phryne watched Jack disappear into the dark hallway? I like to imagine it's something like this.





	1. Lock it Tight.

The candlelight glowed on Phryne’s face as Jack walked her to her door. He couldn’t help but imagine following her into her room. Taking the candle from her hands. Taking her by candlelight. Jack bit the inside of his cheek, grounding himself. “I don’t want anyone taking chances, so lock your door.”

“But Jack...if I lock the door, no one can get in.”

The woman drove him mad. Seemingly with no effect on her own composure, she could send him into a frenzy of emotion or desire with just a glance. Her eyes would sweep his face and linger on his lips, and he would swear that he could feel the caress of her gaze on his philtrum. Often his tongue crept past his lips to trace the path her eyes had taken. Sometimes she caught him, and licked her own lips in response. It was a game they had been playing for months, but the stakes were rising higher every day.

“It’s too great a risk, Miss Fisher. Lock it tight. Good night.”

He could feel her eyes on his back as he moved down the dark corridor. After a moment he stopped, standing in the hallway between two closed doors. “Close...and lock...your door, Miss Fisher,” he said quietly, knowing that she could hear him just fine. He sighed as the glow of her candle, rather than disappearing behind an obediently closed door, came closer. He turned around, slowly, to see her advancing on him. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and her bright eyes fixed on his face.

Jack opened his mouth to rebuke her, but she raised one white hand and pressed her finger to his lips, and it was all he could do to suppress a groan. Her skin on his lips - how he’d longed for it. Suddenly all of his attention was focused there, resisting the urge to part his lips further, to let his tongue snake out and taste her, to draw her against him and -

Jack sighed and pulled away from her finger, enough that he could speak quietly. “What is it, Miss Fisher,” he breathed, hoping that his frustration conveyed exasperation and nothing more.

“Well, I just thought, perhaps you should check my room for murderers, Jack. After all, the door wasn’t locked before I opened it.”

Jack acknowledged this with a slight tilt of his head. “Lead on then, MacDuff,” he replied softly, gesturing back down the hallway with his candle.

She smiled and turned, sashaying happily towards the door she’d left slightly ajar.

On entering the bedroom, Jack inspected the dark corners thoroughly, because he certainly wasn’t going to let anything happen on his watch, and then came back to the doorway where Phryne stood. “All clear,” he reported softly. “No murderers.”

Making to go around her, Jack reached for the door handle, but Phryne didn’t move. “I’m sorry, Inspector,” Phryne smiled sweetly. “I’ve already locked the door.”

Jack smiled, but motioned for her to move out of the way. Still smirking, Phryne complied. Shining his candle at the lock, Jack reached for the key, but found the keyhole empty. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then turned to face her. “Not funny, Miss Fisher.”

Phryne feigned ignorance. “What’s the matter, Inspector?”

The darkness and the closed door made her proximity even more noticeable. What if he pushed her up against the door, he wondered, would that wipe the smirk off her face? Jack gritted his teeth, then forced his jaw to relax. “I need to get back to my room, Miss Fisher,” he said softly, dark serious eyes meeting her bright laughing ones. “Please,” he added, slightly hoarse.

Phryne’s eyes changed in an instant, as she shifted her weight backward, giving him a precious inch of distance between them. “Answer one question truthfully,” she said quietly, “and I’ll give you the key.”

“I always answer truthfully,” Jack objected.

“Unless you evade the question entirely,” Phryne pointed out, and Jack tilted his head in response. “One question, one truthful answer. I’ll even make it multiple choice.”

Jack hesitated, then nodded.

“Do you not want to stay because you’re frightened of what Aunt Prudence will say, or because you’re frightened of me?” Her tone was soft, but her eyes never left his. She saw him wince, but he considered the question before answering.

His eyes roamed her face, gaze caressing her cheeks, trailing across her lips with almost painful slowness. “Yes,” he replied.

Phryne sighed, and held out her hand. The slightly tarnished brass gleamed dully in the glow of the two candles, and Jack reached out his hand.

It almost felt like he was watching someone else, Jack thought, as his fingers closed around Phryne’s small white hand and pressed her fingers around the key. He held her closed fist gently in his larger hand as they stood there in silence.

“Maybe…” Jack paused and tried again. “Maybe I can be brave,” he murmured hoarsely, his eyes travelling from their clasped hands to her face, and she shivered as though she felt his gaze like a caress on her skin.

Their eyes met, and Phryne instinctively leaned into him, as she always did, and he didn’t pull away. She reached blindly to set her candle on the nearest surface, and he did the same, so that the dark room in which they stood seemed to shrink around them. Her right hand rested gently against his chest, and Jack felt his heart thudding a staccato beat against it. He braced his right hand on the safety of the doorframe as they stood there in silence, both barely breathing, both hardly moving. The pad of Jack’s thumb brushed in soft sweeps across the back of Phryne’s hand, and he searched her face in the near-darkness, her eyes glowing darkly as she studied his.

“Am I really so frightening, Jack?” Phryne’s voice was soft, teasing but probing.

Jack smiled. “Terrifying, Miss Fisher,” he admitted just as softly. “Though perhaps in a different way than Mrs. Stanley.”

Phryne grinned, worming her hand out of Jack’s to drop the key onto the chair beside the door, and curling her arms up around his neck. “You’re a man of action, Inspector,” she murmured softly. “I’ve never known you to run from things you’re afraid of.”

“Only one,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving hers. His suddenly-free hand was causing him some consternation; he wasn’t sure where to put it. It hovered over her hip; the base of her spine; the back of her neck. He wanted to touch her everywhere but was too nervous to touch her anywhere. Jack swallowed and gritted his teeth together. He was hardly a fumbling virgin. Their bodies were pressed together, much closer than they usually were, but still not as close as they might be. Jack rested his hand lightly against the base of Phryne’s spine and took a deep breath, gently increasing the pressure to pull her closer to him. Phryne’s breath hissed out in a rush as their bodies pressed together, and Jack smiled. Keeping his right hand on the doorframe, Jack bent slightly, brushing his lips from Phryne’s temple to her jaw.

“Jack,” she breathed softly, tilting her head back slightly. He smiled against her jaw but said nothing, and didn’t move. After a moment her hips gave a seemingly-involuntary twitch against his, and he smiled again, letting his lips part to suck softly at her flesh, savouring the faint moan that slipped from her lips, and the way her hips moved restlessly against his. “Jack,” she repeated, more insistent this time, and he raised his head to meet her eyes in the dim room.

“Yes, Miss Fisher?” he murmured back.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to kiss me,” she demanded archly, and he pretended to consider the question.

“I’m thinking about it,” he replied.

Phryne smirked. “You think about it a lot,” she pointed out, and he felt heat rise in his cheeks.

“Yes,” he admitted huskily. “More than you know.”


	2. Just a kiss? ...hardly.

“Are you waiting for an invitation,” Phryne teased quietly. “I could have a lovely engraved one on your desk—“ Jack pulled her closer against him, and she fell silent.

Jack nosed gently along Phryne’s jaw again, breathing her in, his right hand abandoning the doorframe and coming to close around the back of her neck. His eyes closed and then opened, and he let his lips brush across her ear. She shivered, faintly, and he drew back, meeting her eyes for the most fleeting moment before lowering his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, really. The tension between them had been growing for months and his desire for her suffused his every pore. He may not have expected literal fireworks, but felt a decent spark was well within the realm of plausibility.

What Jack was not expecting, however, was the blaze of scalding fire that ignited when their lips met, sucking all the air from his lungs so that he gasped, tearing his mouth from hers to gulp in a greedy lungful of air. Their eyes met, hers seemingly as surprised as his, but she gave him no chance to recover before leaning up onto her toes to kiss him again, lips open and soft beneath his. His own mouth opened greedily, devouring hers with a groan he couldn’t stifle, a rough, rumbling sound matched by a higher, breathy sound from Phryne.

“Jack,” she all but moaned into his mouth, and he growled wordlessly in response, pressing into her, making no attempt to hide the effect her body had on his. She shuddered against him and he pressed closer, both of his hands on her hips rocking their pelvises together.

Eventually his lips left Phryne’s, gliding along her jaw and down to her neck with soft, sucking bites that made her knees tremble. Phryne moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her as their hips continued to move restlessly against each other. “Miss Fisher,” Jack breathed into her neck, “you are…” words failed him, but it didn’t seem to matter. Their mouths found each other again, kissing hungrily, lips and tongues and teeth meeting, tangling, nipping. Jack ground his aching hardness against her softness, equal parts desperate and afraid, and felt her nails scrape his scalp. She was panting softly, her hips meeting every thrust of his, and he realized, perhaps for the first time, that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. A shot of courage pounded through his veins, and Jack took a deep breath, sliding his hands up, beneath the silk shawl draped over Phryne’s shoulders, and onto her bare skin. Hoping the trembling of his hands wasn’t noticeable, Jack traced the ridges of her collarbone with the tips of his fingers, her skin like fire under his.

In response, Phryne’s hands left his hair and slid down, burrowing themselves under his sweater, gliding between the buttons of his shirt, coming to rest against the flat plane of his stomach. Even her hands were hot, and he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his lips and slipped between hers. She purred softly in response and their lips broke apart. They stared at each other for a moment in the near-darkness, then began quietly shedding their clothes. It took Jack longer, of course, especially because Phryne kept pressing herself back up against him as she undressed, affording him views of creamy skin and black silk and, eventually, hardened nipples. At this he paused in his work on his shirt buttons and pulled her back into him, her back against his chest and his hands running up the hollow of her stomach to cup her breasts, running his fingers over the dusky nipples and making her squirm, grinding her silk-clad ass against the bulging front of his smalls. They both groaned impatiently and Jack released her, both of them uniting against his many layers until he stood before her with fingers in the waistband of his underclothes, hesitating.

Phryne, still clad only in her own knickers, took pity on him. “I need a moment in the bathroom, darling,” she trilled softly, turning her back to him and collecting one of the candles they’d earlier abandoned. She sashayed away from him and he watched her go, before reaching for the second candle and approaching the bed.

Thankfully the bed had already been turned down, and Jack shucked his smalls and climbed into it, leaning back against the bolster with the blankets pulled up to his waist. He scrubbed his hands down his face, emotions tumbling rapidly between desire, fear, nervousness, and anticipation. Just as he couldn’t take it anymore and threw back the covers, still uncertain whether it was to throw open the bathroom door or to pick up the key and run, the bathroom door opened and Phryne emerged. 

She’d left her candle behind and so she was moving slowly into the pool of light cast by the single taper on the bedside table, the faint cast of moonlight making her skin luminous. Jack shuddered, forgetting his own nakedness as he took her in, gaze unable to resist the pull of the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, then gliding slowly back up her body, lingering on her breasts, then all the way up to her face. She cocked one hip, mouth opening with a witty remark, but the smirk fell from her lips at the expression on his face, and instead of teasing him she crashed awkwardly (though not ungracefully) onto him on the bed, their greedy kiss resuming where they’d left off. Her hands were all over him, burning him, and he kissed her like a man possessed, biting at her mouth even as she bit at his.

“Miss Fisher—“ Jack gasped into her mouth, his right hand sliding down, worming its way between them to work itself between her thighs, relieved when his fingers encountered the slippery wetness of her desire. She moaned softly as he stroked her, two fingers sliding inside, as her breaths into his mouth grew shallow, hips jerking against his, parting her legs further to allow him better access to her dripping centre.

Jack shuddered, the wet heat surrounding his fingers making him desperate to be inside her, his hips thrusting instinctively, uselessly, as his cock nestled against her belly. She reached down and wrapped her hand around him, and he gritted his teeth, fighting to stay in control of himself. He slid a third finger inside her and she cried out, biting into his shoulder to muffle the sound. “That’s it,” he murmured encouragingly.

Phryne moaned again, grinding on his fingers, and he pressed his palm against her clitoris and then held her as she shattered, hips bucking against him, her teeth buried so deep in his shoulder that she was almost breaking the skin. Jack groaned, fucking her roughly with his fingers, his own hips moving restlessly against her.

At length Phryne’s thighs closed around his wrist, halting his movements, and Jack let his fingers still, buried deeply inside her. She moaned softly, luxuriantly, lifting her mouth from his shoulder and almost absently kissing the place where her teeth had nearly drawn his blood. Jack’s whole body twitched at the sensation and she smiled her predatory smile. Keeping her thighs closed around his right wrist, she tightened her own fingers around his cock and Jack, who had nearly forgotten they were there, gave another twitch of surprise. She stroked him slowly, almost too gently, and every ounce of his attention was suddenly riveted on her small hand with its wicked fingers.

“Miss Fisher-“ he gasped, his free hand gripping her hip, his head falling back in pleasure.

“Jack,” she murmured back, clipping the “k” in the way that made his stomach clench, her hand stroking him even as she parted her legs so he could pull his hand out from inside her, long slow strokes that made him ache for more as they maneuvered on the bed, never letting go of each other, her fingers wrapped firmly around the base of his cock as she raised herself up above him. Both of his hands on her hips, guiding her, his fingers sticky against her skin, as she sank slowly down, her hips twitching forward as she adjusted to his girth inside her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her face, mysterious and beautiful in the dim candlelight, her eyes closed as she finally had to remove her hand. He looked down in time to see her stroke herself slowly as she pulled her hand away from their joined centres, feeling the tight muscles inside of her clench around his aching cock. He moaned softly, gritting his teeth, closing his eyes and trying to think of something, anything, but the wild woman straddling his hips and the pulse of her around him. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, but even more, he didn’t want it to be over.

Phryne moaned above him, and his eyes opened to gaze up at her in wonder as they moved together, bodies instinctively choosing a rhythm. Every clench of her muscles around his cock threatened to push him over the edge but he courted them, pushing up into her, stroking her skin, then pushing himself up with both arms to wrap his mouth around one tight nipple, teasing it with tongue and teeth and desperately trying not to succumb to the unbearable pleasure of her heat enveloping him. Phryne shuddered, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost this battle.

With a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper, Jack flipped Phryne off of him, onto the bed, clambering over her, hands shaking with need and eyes black with desire. He entered her swiftly, not letting her get comfortable this time, hips beginning a rolling thrust that dragged at her clit and had her gasping within seconds. His arms were braced on either side of her and he kissed her greedily, biting at her bottom lip, pounding his cock into her now, rapidly losing control. His pelvis pushed roughly at hers, and suddenly Phryne was shrieking into his mouth, her hips lifting off the bed to push up into his, burying his cock completely inside her wet, spasming heat, and he roared into their kiss as he spent himself finally, helplessly, gloriously inside her.

When he came back to himself Jack realized he had collapsed on top of Phryne, and pushed himself up to take his own weight on his arms. Phryne seemed gloriously unconcerned, smiling drowsily up into his face. He bent to kiss her again, and she bit teasingly at his upper lip. “Well, Jack, my lionheart. Are you still afraid?”

“Petrified, Miss Fisher,” he murmured quietly. “Perhaps I just need more exposure to desensitize myself.”

Phryne beamed and pulled him down into a kiss. “I’m sure that can be arranged, Inspector.”


End file.
